Featured Writer: Trisha Ofstedal

Amy’s Body

My mother turned the sunroom into a hospital room for my sister Amy’s body.She complemented the cheery sunroom décor with a vinyl hospital recliner, IV poles, a stark white supply cabinet, and an electric hospital bed.Sometimes, the smell of Amy’s decaying body drifted into the kitchen and made me nauseous, so I avoided the kitchen unless it was absolutely necessary to use the stove.Without consulting my parents, I moved the microwave into the basement family room, where I had already moved my belongings and myself, so I could avoid being upstairs for any reason.I didn’t want to see Amy’s useless body propped up in the recliner and positioned as doll, appearing to look out the window or watch TV.I found my mother’s need to make Amy’s body look active and normal extremely morbid.It also made me extremely angry.I knew the best part of Amy was gone and my mother was using what was physically left of her to play “pretend”.

During the three months that Amy’s body had been home, I only looked at it twice, then only when my mother wasn’t around.Once it was lying in bed, eyes closed, dressed in a pink nightie [Amy hated pink] with her old teddy bear stuffed under it’s arm. I stared down, feeling disgusted and angry, then bolted to the family room when I heard my mother come in the front door.The next time I “visited” Amy’s body, it was propped up in the recliner, eyes open but unfocused.I sat on a stool right in front of it and wondered if I could be seen.Could the eyes in this body see how different I had become?Could they see and understand the misery Amy’s partial absence was causing our family?Could they see the pain in my face, pain that caused me to hurt so much I sometimes couldn’t eat without puking?Maybe the eyes couldn’t see at all, so the world before them was black.Maybe they were looking into another dimension and seeing a future Amy couldn’t experience because part of her was still trapped here.Maybe they were watching the very last terrifying experience Amy had, like a DVD on repeat.Maybe her damaged brain had no idea the body it once totally controlled was sitting in a used hospital chair, covered with patchwork quilts.But what I truly hoped was that her eyes couldn’t see me and that whatever she was looking at was incredibly wonderful.

My mother didn’t sleep with Amy’s body, though this surprised me.Instead, she slept in Amy’s original room with a baby monitor on.My mother, along with a nurse’s aid, provided all the care for Amy’s body, because Dad and I refused to help.Since Dad wouldn’t help her, my mother moved out of their bedroom and stopped speaking to him.Since my mother wouldn’t let go of Amy, I stopped speaking to her and moved downstairs.

“Amy!”I woke up in the middle of the night to see my father sleeping on the opposite couch and CNN flickering on the TV.Not knowing why, I urgently needed to check on Amy’s body.I crept upstairs and stood in the door of the sunroom, looking at her body.The baby monitor was on.Tiptoeing across the room, I carefully laid it face down on a towel, covering the microphone, then sat in wooden chair next to the bed.I smoothed back the body’s hair and squeezed it’s hand to let it know I was there.

            “I’m glad you heard me calling for you.It’s been so hard to get anybody’s attention in this house.It never used to be like that.”Turning my head to the left, I saw a vibrantly smiling Amy stretched out in the recliner, ankles crossed, straight dark hair gleaming and lying across her shoulders, wearing her favorite “laze about” outfit—yoga pants and a tank top.“How have you been?” she asked, flipping her hair back over her shoulders.“I really need to pin this up,” she muttered.

A genuine smiled curved my lips for the first time in several months.Here was Amy---her soul, opening up before me, talking to me as she had been when she was here on earth, filling me with happiness and hope.“I’ve been better.” I whispered, my voice cracking.“How are you?”

Amy laughed.“I’m fine.However, my earthy vessel…” she waved a hand at the body, “…is damaged beyond repair.I actually did die that day, but there were too many know-it-alls doing everything to save me.I don’t think any one of them gave a minute’s thought to what life would be like for me after being pinned under water for 10 minutes.So, the thoughtless do-gooders dragged me back kicking and screaming.At least, my soul was.That thing,” she pointed to her body, “will never kick and scream again.”

I looked back at Amy’s body.It was becoming twisted, the muscles in the arms and legs contracting despite our mother’s best efforts the keep them limber and strong.“I keep trying to leave,” Amy continued as we studied her body.“But Mom pumps me full of antibiotics and vitamins and keeps exercising my useless limbs.I’ve tried to tell her many times I need to go, but she won’t listen.So, I’m stuck here.I can’t start a new life.I’m sick of evaluating my old one.I want to move on.That’s why I contacted you, dear sister.I need your help.”

I studied Amy’s face as she spoke to me.She looked so beautiful, so peaceful, so alive.Then I realized I was looking at the best part of Amy.She really was going to live forever.She just needed to get on her way.I glanced at her old body.“What do you want me to do with this?”

“Well,” she leaned toward me with a wicked smile on her face.“What I really want you to do is dig a deep hole, toss it in, shoot it and bury it, but you’d go to jail and that would just suck for you.It’d be a blast for me though.” She laughed.“So, you need to be more subtle.”

“Ya’ think?” I said sarcastically.

She laughed again, then sobered.“I know what to do.Do you really want to help me?”

“I want to.”

“Can you?”

I sighed.“I can.”We were quiet for a few moments.I studied the limp hand I was holding.“Amy?”I looked up and she smiled at me.“What do I need to do?”

Her smile faded and she became very serious.“Don’t let me have the antibiotics.I’ve had numerous infections, but mom keeps giving me those damn IV antibiotics and weakening the infections.That and her damn desire to keep me here with her.That pull she has on me is very strong.She has to let me go.But even with her strong hold on me, I think the infections can do it.They just need a chance to be destructive.”

I nodded.“I can figure out something about the antibiotics,” I finally said.“But I can’t stop her if she sends you to the hospital for treatment.I’ll do my best, though.”

“I know you will.”She stood up and walked over to the opposite side of the bed, her eyes scanning the body under the blankets.Reaching over the bed, she squeezed my shoulder and I was suddenly warm and calm.“Oh, Amy,” I whispered, tears filling my eyes as I touched her warm hand.“I’ve really missed you.”

The next day, while my mother was napping and the aid was busy changing the bed, I snatched several bags of antibiotics from the refrigerator.In my basement sanctuary, I worked on Amy’s request.Using the biggest syringe I could find, I drained as much fluid out of the IV bags stopper as I could, then replaced it with saline solution I had found in a box of extra supplies in the garage.Using a red permanent marker, I carefully marked the bags I doctored up with a small red dot.That evening I sat at the kitchen table and watched as my mother removed a bag of medicine from the fridge and gave it to Amy.Soon Amy, I thought.If this works you’ll soon be free.

I saw Amy again that night.“I can feel the infection building strength already,” she said excitedly.“Thank you so much for helping me.”She hugged me.“I’m so glad you’re my sister.”

“Some people may think what I’m doing is murder, Amy.If our mother finds out, she’ll say I killed you.”

Amy sobered.“But, you’re not killing me.You’re helping me.”She paused.“Do you feel this is murder?”

“No.I think it’s like euthanasia.I’d never have done it though, if you hadn’t asked.”We sat in a comfortable silence, watching the chest of Amy’s body rhythmically rise and fall.“Amy, what is it like to be free, or, well, nearly free?”

Amy leaned forward in the recliner and began.She described to me intense feelings of peace and love surrounding her when she died.“I felt like I was floating into and out of everything—we were all one being.Sometimes I saw faces that were familiar and instead of remaining separate we came together and, well, blended.It is really hard to describe, but it felt wonderful.All the physical and material things that I thought I needed or wanted didn’t matter.In that form, in that place, I had everything and yet, it was nothing I could hold in my hands, but became a part of me.”She sighed as she leaned back in the chair, looking wistfully up at the full moon.“That’s the best I can do, but you will feel it one day.Some of it you can feel, like the love you have for me or the love Mom and Dad have for us.But it’ll be a very long time before you’ll be this way.”

“Really?How do you know?’

She shrugged.“I can’t tell you.I just know.”

I turned off the tiny table lamp, the only one on, and watched as moonlight filled the room.Then I carried my chair over to Amy.“How do you feel right now?” I asked, sitting next to her.

She sighed.“Being caught between two worlds is very difficult, because I can never return there—” she pointed at her body—“But I can’t go there---” she pointed up at the sky---“without tying off loose ends.Understand?”

I looked up at the stars, the full moon, the beautiful night sky.“Yes, I do.”And for a moment, I actually envied her future.

I met with Amy for the next several nights.We talked as we always did when she came home to visit; we giggled as we reminisced about our childhood; I cried because I would have to wait so long to see her again. “I’ll be fine.” She reassured me.“I’ll always check up on you.” And she made me laugh again as she described how she was going to spy on me.“You will be happy again,” she reassured me as she handed me tissues, “I promise.”

On Sunday night, after a week of doctored antibiotics, I found Amy standing by the bed watching her body.“It’s almost time,” she said, watching the face of the body.It was sweating profusely; hair sticking to the scalp in clumps and the pillow looked damp.She glanced up at me. “Go get Dad,” she urged.“I want to say good-bye.”

I ran down the stairs taking two at a time. “Dad!” I called as I hit the last step and slid to the floor.“Dad, wake up!” He jumped off the couch and grabbed me.

“What’s wrong?What’s wrong?Are you hurt?” He demanded, clutching my shoulders and shaking me.I shook my head and took two slow deep breaths.“Why am I shaking you?”He stopped.“What’s wrong?”

“It’s Amy.She’s going to die and she wants to say good-bye.”

He stared at me, his mouth hanging open.“How do you know she is going to die?”

“She just told me. She’s upstairs waiting for you.”

He closed his mouth.“Oh, God.The dreams I’ve had…” he mumbled, then he pushed me aside and bounded up the stairs.I found him standing at the foot of the body’s bed, watching it’s chest rapidly rise and fall.Amy was gone, but the body was gasping for air like a fish out of water.I pulled a chair over to the bedside and lead Dad to it.He fell down onto the seat.

I expected him to start asking questions, trying to rationalize with me, prodding me for information.Instead, he remained silent, his eyes glued to the pale, sunken face.He clasped the right hand in both of his and leaned close to it’s ear.“I’m here Amy.”He whispered, then kissed it’s cheek.“You can go whenever you’re ready.”

I sat in a chair opposite Dad and held the left hand of Amy’s body.We lost track of time as we watched and waited.We watched the breathing change, becoming more sporadic with longer pauses.We watched the color of it’s skin change, going from a light pink to a pale, plastic yellow.We sat.We waited.We didn’t get mother.

The body cooled; the hands became limp; it’s chest stopped rising.“Do you hear that?” my father asked suddenly, raising his tear stained face to search the room.“It’s music.I hear music.”He looked relieved.“She’s going to be alright.”Her hand squeezed my fingers for the first and only time, telling me good-bye.I was ecstatic.I looked at Amy’s body and knew that she was free.



Trisha Ofstedal

Email: Trisha Ofstedal

Return to Table of Contents